Chokran and Yella

Last Sunday, Bobby Habibi took the kids to the grocery store and let them get whatever they wanted.  $200 later, they came back with:

Oreos

six different kinds of chips

four different types of cereal (all with sugar as the main ingredient)

grape Fanta

orange Fanta

root beer

hot dogs

rotel and velveeta (ok, that was really from my list)

three types of Pop Tarts

beer

coffee filters

That's just Bobby's way of saying, "Daddy's home, y'all."  

This week, I am excitedly anticipating Bobby Habibi's return from the oil fields, and not for the velveeta. 

Last night, I asked Francois Philippe if he wanted to go to the movies with me.  I thought this would be an excellent opportunity for us to kick it and, you know, bond.  Francois Philippe, however, preferred to sit on the computer playing World of Warcraft all night.  After I spent a few minutes sobbing into my pillow, "How am I not cool anymore???!!!!,"  Coco and I decided to economize and get a movie off the TV box.  

This movie was Traitor, starring Don Cheadle, which is set in the Middle East and follows Islamic terrorist organizations operating within the US.  So, everyone attractive to me speaks Arabic.  As an anthropologist, I spent the entire movie daydreaming about learning Arabic, running away with Omar (Don Cheadle's vaguely Middle Eastern, vaguely Hispanic best friend), and starting a new life somewhere over there.  

And that's where Bobby Habibi, who speaks Arabic, comes in.  Maybe my paychecks will start coming in the form of Arabic lessons.  So far, I know how to say "thank you" (which I learned from The Moroccan) and "hurry up" (which I learned from Coco).  I'm certain I could pretty far with these words, right??